


ebb away

by skullmoss



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullmoss/pseuds/skullmoss
Summary: Shiro's not quite there when he's with her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is what i'd like to call a "stream of conscious drabble." 
> 
> though only implicated, i want to emphasize that this deals with past sexual abuse & ptsd.

When Shiro comes, it’s ugly, his face twisting in on itself, teeth gritting together near painful, exhaling a ragged breath and no other vocalization. It’s quiet. Contained. A moment of pent up tension coming to rise and a crashing fall, tears falling, wet at her collarbone as the rest of him seems to drip and melt away, body going languid and limp and shaking. She feels as though she’s consumed him. Sucked out whatever remains of his quintessence, a small flickering light that shines too _too_  bright for a man, that when it’s made to burn through it tires quickly when he crashes into her arms.

The first time, it worried her. Allura is not used to partners who remain so stoic during climax, so though she came twice during their initial moment together (impeccable stamina, for a human, it leads her to wonder why--) he only did it once, silent, body locking up and had it not been for the heat that filled her to near leaking, she would have had no idea.

And then it had broken through. Crumbling walls, tears, skin sweaty and cold to the touch, and with him still inside her she comforted him without asking why, just knowing that he needed it. Fearing the reasons why without asking. She wouldn’t lay atop him for fear of crushing him, but instead leaned down over him, spine curved, long white hair fanning over them like a shroud, thumbs running rhythmically along the firm bone of his cheeks, where the markings would be had he been Altean, wiping tears away as he silently wept.

No one ever asked what other things were desired of Zarkon’s Champion beyond the pit. No one asked what went on when the fights were over, the survivors bloody, worn, and weary. No one asked, and for awhile, he had not answered.

But following this, he had. When he had found his composure, when she finally pulled herself off him and laid beside him, hearing his heart beat slow in his chest, he told her. Not everything, but enough, voice small and ragged and tight, like he needed a drink though there would be nothing to quench it. Nothing to solve it.

She had asked then if he did not want to do this. Emphasized that it was fine, that she would be happy to simply lay with him and share his heat, his energy between them, that he filled her enough simply by _being_ , and that she could fill him the same way with simple touches. Because she wanted him in ways that move beyond physical.

And he had been quiet, a part of her thought him asleep, he was quiet for so long, but then he spoke. Thoughtfully, mulling it over.

“No,” he had finally said. “I do want to do this. With you. _Allura._ " The way he said her name, there was a desire to it she still cannot fully understand. "I want to make it feel right again.”

And so it became a work in progress. An ebb and flow, a focus on touch, a focus on talk. Eye contact and kisses. Mouth against _him_ , mouth against _her_. His name over and over on her lips, short breaths, the scent of flowery oils mixed with sweat. Her name over and over, breaths still stuttering, eyes focusing and watching her as they move together. But still, when it comes to a climax it still isn’t the pretty sight others would describe in the romance books she used to read in secret as a child, or like the others she had been with when she had grown older. His eyes roll back, shut close, and for a moment there is always that dipping fear of him being far away from her, distant and elsewhere, but each time he returns to her sooner and sooner, relieved, limp, and clinging to her as though keeping himself grounded in this realm.

A place he can return to whenever he finds himself lost. And she will be here for him.


End file.
